


Viscera

by Swiftblight



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, Consensual Possession, Demon Bill Cipher, Guro, Knifeplay, Male Solo, Other, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:08:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5910523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swiftblight/pseuds/Swiftblight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-Betrayl Billford gore porn, written for my dearest Isa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Viscera

**Author's Note:**

  * For [delightfuliza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delightfuliza/gifts).



The earthy scent of smoke wafts up from the spent match, swirling through the low light until it disappears into nothingness. Stanford Pines put his hands on his hips, surveying his work and finding it good. Though it was a bit hard to mess up. His instructions had been pretty clear; thirty three scentless candles (arranged as a triangle inside a circle), one full-length mirror set up just outside the perimeter, assorted gauze, thread, needles, and a never-used scalpel. Oddly enough, the shopping trip to get medical supplies hadn’t earned him any curious glances, but the candles did. Or maybe that lady had just been upset he took almost all of their stock before retreating back to his house.

 _Doesn’t matter now_ , he thought as he checks everything over one final time before sinking down onto the cushion. He gets himself comfortable, sitting with legs folded beneath him, and feels that familiar giddy excitement that always prempted his interactions with his Muse. The fact that he, a polydactyl from New Jersey, had been chosen by the creature of Knowledge always surprised him. It left a fluttering, warm feeling in his ribcage that he did his best to calm before he started his usual ritual. _2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13-_ Stanford begins reciting prime numbers under his breath as he seeks to clear his mind. Everything slowly fades around him, the creak of the house unimportant as he invites the entity towards him. He gets to 701 before he feels the world shift just so, and on the next breath his eyes open out of his control.

 _“Hiya there, smart guy! Miss me?”_ The reflection reveals the grin he can feel pull at his face.

‘Of course’ He tries to reply. His mouth fails to move, however and for a brief moment panic sparks in his chest. 

_“Hahaha don’t have a heart attack there, Sixer. Just lil’ ol me holdin’ the strings, ya see?”_ Bill moves Stanford’s arm and wiggles his fingers in front of the mirror. They then go down to grab the edge of his sweater and pull it up over his head, taking the undershirt along with it. _“Thought we’d do something a little bit different today.”_

‘Can you hear me? Bill?’ Stanford watches his own eyes flick up and meet his gaze.

 _“Duh! Where do ya think I am right now, genius? Usually I just kick you out for this, cuz maintaining two consciousnesses in one body is a challenge. But I figured you could handle it, right?”_ Bill runs his hands over the half-finished circle inked on their chest, a small shiver traveling up their spine at the physical feedback. 

‘I can handle it, I was just caught off guard is all. I would never refuse you, Bill.’ A palm reaches up to stroke their cheek and Stanford feels the urge to lean into it despite knowing he won’t be able to move. He surprises himself when his body does just that, nuzzling into his own hand. ‘What…’

 _“Split control, for your reward! I see ya got all the stuff I asked for, good job!”_ He reaches out and passes a hand close to the candle flame before snatching up the laid out medical equipment. The heat lingers on their skin. 

‘What did you need all of this for, anyway?’ He echoes in his mind, curious and a bit excited when Bill drags the flat back of the blade against his fingers.

 _“Today’s activities, of course! Thought we’d make a date of it, whaddya say, Fordsy?”_ Bill grins wide enough to show his gums when he presses the tip of the scalpel to their throat. _“Do you trust me?”_

Stanford’s mind comes to a screeching halt as he watches the single bead of dark blood well up on their neck before dripping down. ‘Yes.’ He says, eyes closing when he wills them to, this time. ‘With all my mind and soul.’ 

_“Hmmm, your body too?”_

‘I- yes, that is part of the package, isn’t it?’

 _“Just wanted to hear ya say it! Hah haha~”_ Bill opens their eyes once again and smirks, taking the knife away from their vulnerable juglar. _“Gosh you’re **cute**.”_ Stanford watches the blush work across his cheeks at the praise. No matter how many times he heard the Muse say it, he never tires of the praise. Genius, smart guy, **cute** , prodigy… Familiar heat pools between his thighs at the thought, but either Bill Cipher doesn’t notice the reaction (unlikely) or else he chooses to ignore it (plausible). It was Stanford’s fault after all. More than a few times during some much-needed stress relief he would recall the praise Bill doted on him. The first time he had won a chess game was seared into his mind-

A sharp sting radiates from just above his bellybutton and snaps him out of the train of thought.

 _“Now now, Sixer, eyes on the prize. No time to get distracted, we’ll get to **that** soon enough!”_ He chuckles through their mouth and admires the red line he had just cut onto Ford’s body. A finger collects the blood carefully and brings it to their lips, tongue darting out to taste iron. Stanford can’t help but moan at how delicate Bill was being even as he cut through skin and he surprises himself when the sound echoes back to his ears. Oh. Well then, if Bill’s smug smirk was anything to go by, the release of enough control so he _could_ do that had been deliberate.

 _“Hm, you like that, huh? Hah hah, knew there was a reason I chose ya above everyone else. You’re weird, just like me. Want some more, Sixer?”_ His voice is a rough purr that sounds so different from the usual nasally pitch. Oh, he realizes belatedly, that’s because it’s his _own_ voice. It sure is doing all sorts of interesting things to Stanford’s emotions, to his body, and he can’t help but swallow and speak.

‘Yes sir.’

Steel flashes in the flickering light when it slides through the first cut again, slicing deeper into skin and fat. Dark crimson liquid drips down, threatening to soak into his pants before Bill moves their hand to catch it. He draws a line up from their hip to Stanford’s solar plexus and uses the blood to complete the tattoo on his chest, smiling the whole while. The fingers that push into his mouth moments later linger as he cleans them with little swipes of his tongue. They press back at him playfully before withdrawing. Without warning Stanford finds his jaw hijacked again by his body-mate. 

_“Well well well, and here I thought I was gonna be the only one enjoying this little get-together! You sure know how to surprise me, dontcha?”_ Bill puts the fingers back in their mouth and drags their teeth along the sensitive pads in a way that makes Ford’s cock twitch with interest. He feels mortified by the reaction and stutters to apologize. 

‘I’m so sorry, it’s just an automatic bodily reaction, I really have no control over-’ Bill shooshes him with the clean hand scratching at their scalp.

 _“Shh shhh, it’s alright IQ, your fleshy erections aren’t gonna gross me out too much! Ya know how long I’ve been around? Seen my fair share of biological shenanigans. So calm your vestigial mammaries and let’s take this a bit further shall we?”_ Bill picks the blade back up from where it was dropped on the floor and stretches the wound between two sticky fingers. Stanford has a sneaky suspicion about where this is going and fear chills his heart.

‘Wait!’

A slow, casual roll of their head has Bill locking eyes with their reflection.

_“Yes, Stanford Pines?”_

‘Shouldn’t I have some sort of topical anesthetic if you plan on cutting much deeper? I may have a fairly high pain tolerance, but the human body can only take so much, Bill, what are you…’ He realizes after several seconds that the strange shaking of their shoulders is because Bill Cipher is _laughing_ at him. That hurts just a tiny bit.

_“Aww, don’t mean to patronize ya buddy, you’re just pretty oblivious sometimes.”_

‘Bill-’

 _“Shh, haven’t you noticed anything odd yet? Go on, I’ll give you a second.”_ Bill plays with the incision while the gears tick away in Stanford’s mind. What was he missing? It had to be something fairly obvious or Cipher wouldn’t be teasing him this way. Alright, he just had to observe the facts and make a hypothesis, easy as breathing. Fact, he was being partially possessed by a very powerful paranormal entity. Fact, said entity had sliced a six inch cut into his abdomen, which was slowly leaking blood down his stomach. Fact, his heart rate was slightly elevated, mostly due to the visceral reaction he was having to the events and-

‘I should already be in much more pain than I am.’ Stanford realizes suddenly, eyes mimicking his surprise when he looks up to his own reflection. Bill takes back control over their head and nods. 

_“Got it in one, smart guy, knew you could do it. Can ya figure out why too”?_

‘Hm… something to do with you being here? Because… you are in my brain, and the brain is the seat of all sensations?’

Bill shrugs their shoulders and twirls the scalpel in his hand with surprising grace. Not the first time he’d puppeted a human body, and certainly not the first time he’d done so with Stanford.

_“Eh, close enough! An’ speaking of enough, I’m done with guessing games, let’s get back to the main course!”_

The sensation might be numb and distant like it is happening far away, but the pain when Bill cuts clean through their muscle still is enough to take his breath away. He turns the blade and makes another incision across Stanford’s belly until he can peel the two flaps of skin back and expose the churning organs beneath. So much of his blood is pooling below them on the floor that he’s surprised that there is any left to redirect into his groin, and yet. God, why? Why is he reacting like this when Bill puts their hand into the wound and strokes the squirming digestive organs? _“Man oh man, look at this stuff! Ain’t it crazy, Stanford, how you need all this to run that brain of yours? You’re like, meat that thinks!”_ He plunges their fingers deep between the guts and wiggles them about, drawing another gasp from Stanford between panting breaths. 

‘Bill…’

_“And it’s all **mine.** ”_

The feeling of having one’s guts pulled out of their body was about what could be expected; namely, nausea. He can see everything wetly ooze onto the floor and _that is his stomach right there threatening to pump bile up his throat oh god._ Even when he tries to heave, all the muscles are in the wrong place now so all he can do is gag uselessly. Stanford isn’t really sure what emotion he is feeling right now; fear and pain are mingling inside him and yet a part of him can’t help but feel… something else. He’s laid open before his source of inspiration, vulnerable, and he still trusts him. Logically, they have so much work to do still, the Machine isn’t finished and Bill needs him to complete it, so he wouldn’t let him die here. But he can not ignore that the very same entity is wrapping the long ropes of intestine around their blood-caked arms while happily humming. This… this is _insane!_

 _“Insane, huh? That how you describe someone that thinks just a little bit different from you, IQ? Don’t be such a square.”_ Bill tsks and pats their cheek, leaving behind a sticky handprint. _“Feels like you’re enjoying this just fine.”_ He stretches their legs out, somehow avoiding the candles around them, and positions their body in front of the mirror. Belt and zipper are dealt with quickly and Bill wastes no time shoving a hand against the aroused bulge in his boxers. He is getting so mixed up in his head that Ford can’t really tell if the moan was him or Bill. Somewhere underneath the roar of pain, the heady rush of pleasure hits him every time Bill strokes over his trapped cock. The touch is bordering on uncomfortable and dry. A whimper forces its way from his throat and he suddenly finds fingers prodding at his lips again. He lets them in and sucks hard once before giving them a more affectionate lick. Wordless begging echoes in his mind but Stanford doesn’t even know what he is asking for anymore.

 _“Shhh, I gotcha, Stanford, I got you.”_ The words are breathed around his digits before they head down again. Bill positions their body in front of the mirror so he has a good look at the dark cavity of his abdomen. It also makes it very apparent when his boxers are tugged down, finally releasing his erection. Cool fingers swipe around the flushed head before gathering the little beads of precum, slicking skin that strokes over his flesh. A pump of their hand encourages more. Stanford relaxes with a sigh that turns to a small chuckle.

‘I almost expected you to use the blood, to be honest.’ He admits and finds his face claimed by a smug grin that isn’t his own.

 _“Ohhh, Fordsy, such a deviant.”_ Bill rubs their thumb under his sensitive glans. _“While it woulda been pretty easy, I mean, look at how much of the stuff you have in here- blood ain’t that good for staying slippery. Gets all tacky and creates-”_ He twists their fist a bit tighter. _“friction.”_

Stanford doesn’t think about much after that, his mind fading in and out from the combination of pleasure and, he assumes, blood loss. Everything is sort of vague except for the fingers steadily pulling at his length. A gross sensation grabs his attention, however, and he squints at his reflection, trying to figure out why something is moving in his chest. A hand, his hand, stroking at his very core.

 _“So faithful,”_ Bill rasps out between laboring breaths, _“My loyal sacrifice.”_ Their hand speeds up and Stanford can feel fire building between his legs. He wants it more than anything. _“You are mine **forever.** ”_ And that was it for his self control. A single squeeze pushes him over the edge and he bucks up into his fist, growling through his orgasm. He’s faintly aware of his newfound control over his body.

 _“Oooh, you look so good I want to burrow into you until ya can never get rid of me.”_ Stanford’s mind is a little bit fuzzy, his limbs weak in his post-release state, but he still notices when something that isn’t his hands starts moving through his organs. Doing his best to sit up, he peeks open an eye to see a very bloody triangle snuggling into the pile of viscera. 

“You-” He surprises himself with his own voice. “You can’t manifest on the physical plane…”

 _“Mmm, sure can’t buddy! C’mon, use that big ol’ brain of yours, genius, figure it out.”_ Bill crinkles his eye up at the man before going back to covering himself with Stanford’s liver. The edge of pain that had been there before was completely gone now, though the sensation still felt odd. Glancing around at the blurry edges of the room, the reality hits him at once.

“You mindscaped me- this is all a carefully crafted dream. But, if that is so, why did you have me bother getting the supplies?”

 _“Made it seem real, didn’t it?”_ He says, sounding particularly proud of himself. The muse floats up, hovering a foot or so above him before snapping his fingers. In an instant Ford’s body is repaired, all organs back under his skin where they belong. _“Bit of truth makes the lie that much more convincing, that’s a little tip for ya, Sixer.”_ Bill comes close enough to run his hands through the man’s hair. Replaying the night in his head, Stanford chews at a cheek, wondering, before he gives in to the question.

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks quietly, holding out his hand for Bill to stand on. The triangle ignores the gesture and cuddles closer to his scalp instead.

_“Say lotsa things, gotta be a bit more specific, Stanford.”_

“About… about us being… forever.” He feels nervous even broaching the subject. A small hand scratches at his sideburn and he can’t help but hum at the sensation.

 _“Thems the breaks, Fordsy! That’s what_ ‘until the end of time’ _means, yeah? I’m a lifelong inspiration.”_ Bill flutters his eyelashes against Stanford’s cheek before hovering to the mirror. It only takes a movement of his hand to change their surroundings from the inside of his house to a green field that stretches in all directions around them. Stanford smiles at the ticklish feeling of grass under his hand and stands, admiring the soft white clouds in the sky before a thought hits him.

“I’m… going to have to change these boxers when I wake up, aren’t I?” He covers his face with a hand to the sound of Bill’s laughter.

 _“Eh, I’d be more worried about catching your hair on fire! Left all those candles lit didn’t cha?”_ Bill snickers and floats just out of reach when Stanford makes a playful grab at him. While the possibility was there, he figured it wasn’t very likely. Best to worry about it later, for now he would just let himself believe the dream.

**Author's Note:**

> u3u ~


End file.
